What Clarke hadn't picked up in regards to always meeting at night and he had end of day stubble, it hits pretty solidly in the face at ...someone better than me; someone human. A cold reality slides into the fairytale haze, and it strikes her that: Joseph Penn had been a human in love with a vampire, and the world probably wasn't ready for that.

Of course there'd been a conflict. And Clarke visibly winces, and is suddenly reaching out to press her palm to Diana's arm, gently but firm. An attempt to snag and belay the conversation, as much as it is one to comfort what she imagines is still an open, weeping wound.

"You don't have to tell me — anything about it, if you don't want to." If you aren't ready.